Treasure of Lima (Rogue Angel, Book 46)
Alex Archer, Joseph Nassise
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White beaches and coral reefs should be adventure-proof…
For archaeologist and TV show host Annja Creed, a restful vacation in Costa Rica is as elusive as a rare artifact. Days into her sojourn, Annja's peace is interrupted by a woman with a mysterious—and enticing—tale. Weeks earlier, her husband led an expedition into the rain forest, in search of the lost treasure of Lima, and hadn't returned. The priceless hoard was smuggled out of Peru during the country's nineteenth-century revolt against Spain. But it disappeared when a ship captain went mad with greed.
Twenty-six expeditions have gone after the treasure. And twenty-six expeditions have vanished.
Sympathetic to the woman's distress, Annja agrees to head up a rescue party for her missing husband. And Annja can't deny her own interest in the lost hoard. Now the fates of two expeditions are at stake, along with a fortune in gold, silver and jewels rumoured to be exquisite. But the dense jungle of Cocos Island guards its primitive secrets well. Danger lurks beneath the ancient green canopy. And this time, Annja doesn't see it coming….
“I need some help getting an expedition permit approved by the Costa Rican government.” She could also feel Roux sitting up straighter in his chair, his interest now piqued. “And what, might I ask, is this expedition looking for?” “A missing archaeologist.” “Oh.” Roux’s enthusiasm audibly deflated. “That and the Treasure of Lima.” There was a moment of silence on the line and then Roux asked her to repeat what she’d just said. “You heard me just fine, Roux.” She went on to explain what
his first mate. “Get a crew to shift some of the ballast aft before we begin loading that cargo. Don’t want to stress the old girl unnecessarily.” “Aye, Captain,” Jones replied and moved off, shouting orders. Thompson remained where he was until the caravan drew close and then headed back to his cabin to await the newcomers’ arrival. Other captains might have met their passengers on deck, but Thompson was a stickler for protocol aboard his ship and there was no way he was going to stand around
collusion with de la Serna left on hand. “Thank you for delivering that, Father,” he said to Alverez. The older priest smiled. “Good news, I hope?” Thompson shrugged. “Too soon to tell, I fear, but one can always hope.” “We will pray for it to be so,” Alvarez replied, which threatened to pull an explosion of laughter out of Thompson before he got a handle on it. “I’d appreciate that, Father,” he told the other man instead. With a straight face, no less. He glanced over the priest’s shoulder
quicksand. If we can manage that, he should be able to just crawl across the surface to safety.” She knew the plan was a sound one; she’d survived a quicksand pit in the past doing that very thing. But the question remained as to whether she could get Hugo’s legs free of the suction holding them and how she would prevent her own legs from getting as stuck as Hugo’s now were. She cautiously began walking toward the spot where Hugo was trapped. The ground beneath her feet was solid at first and
appearance. It snarled a warning, a keening scream that sent the jungle around them into silence as the other creatures recognized the cry of the predator on the hunt. Annja was tempted to scream right back at it, but she settled for bringing her sword around in the ready stance and grinning at the feisty feline. In response, the cat lowered its front half to the ground, its face mere inches above the earth, its eyes locked on hers as its tail twitched back and forth. “Here, kitty, kitty,”